


we could work it all out (tell me where it hurts most)

by jbhmalum



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: 5+1 but make it 3+1, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Smut, Non-Sexual Intimacy, a few times actually but nothing explicit, ace!calum, cuddles!!, just the boys being in love and taking care of each other, talk about Ashton being sober but no direct alcohol mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27547939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbhmalum/pseuds/jbhmalum
Summary: “What’s wrong, are you okay? Should I come over?”“No! I said don’t worry.”“That’s not how that works!” Michael says a bit too loud. He reigns his voice back down with an apologetic look to the nearby tables. “Of course I’m worried, Luke. We’re all worried.”or: 3 times Michael takes care of his boyfriends when they need it and 1 time they take care of him.
Relationships: Calum Hood/Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood, Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin, Michael Clifford/Calum Hood, Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings, Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood/Ashton Irwin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71





	we could work it all out (tell me where it hurts most)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to [Brooke](https://blackbutterfliescal.tumblr.com/) and [Anna](https://devilatmydoor.tumblr.com/)'s celebration for Michael's birthday! I decided to go with ot4, which I've never written before!! So that was exciting!  
> Thanks a ton to [Meg](https://kaleidoscopeminds.tumblr.com/) for reading through this for me and saying the nicest things about it!! love you lots xx  
> Aaaand shoutout to my lovely [Shal](https://wheniminouterspace.tumblr.com/) for being my soundboard for this, thanks for helping me out with great ideas as always, I love you!!!
> 
> Cheeky title from Drive by Ashton because I love that song!
> 
> Enjoy xo

**LUKE**

  
  


Michael is tired. He’s been feeling tired and worn out for a couple of weeks now, which might become problematic quite rapidly considering they’ve been on a  _ break _ and they’re going back on tour in two days, but Michael is nothing if not stubborn, and he’s determined to remain as positive as he can.

It’s not too hard a feat to let a fond smile break out on his face when he crosses the restaurant’s threshold and notices Calum and Ashton, sitting at a table at the back of the main room. They don’t notice him right away, too engrossed in each other. It’s the most endearing thing, watching Ashton stroke Calum’s cheek while the two hold hands on the table, gleaming eyes zeroed-in on each other’s like they have no care in the world for anything but  _ them _ . Michael rarely gets to witness it from the outside, so he’ll make sure to cherish the sight. Put it in the little (but getting bigger by the day)  _ ‘boyfriends’ _ drawer in his memory.

With a smile still plastered on his face, Michael makes his way towards them, zigzagging through the other tables as stealthily as he can.

“Hey lovers,” Michael says with a full grin when he gets to the table, startling them into looking up at him.

“Oh,” Calum breathes, relieved to see it’s Michael. The smile on his face has to be brighter than Michael’s, the white of his shirt making it shine even brighter. “Hey babe.”

“Hey Mike. You’re not early,” Ashton teases, but he still purses his lips so Michael can kiss them. They’re soft despite being a little bit chapped, and the feeling of having them on his is like coming home.

“What about me?” Calum pouts when they get lost in the kiss for a little too long, effectively forgetting Calum.

Michael doesn’t  _ want _ to forget about Calum, ever, so with one last peck to Ashton’s lips he makes his way around the table to Calum so he can greet him properly as well. Nobody would think they’d seen each other just last night, but in Michael’s opinion last night is already too long ago when they’re about to have dinner on the next day.

This is still new, the four of them dating. Barely three months ago they were still all acting like high schoolers around each other the way they’d been for months, shyly and slowly figuring things out. Looking back on it, it was kind of ridiculous, four men in their mid-twenties who have known each other for so long acting like that, but Michael guesses they had to go through that to get over the whole ‘I think I’m in love with my three best friends who also happen to be in my band’ thing.

But once they got over it they got  _ over  _ it, so much so that now Michael doesn’t care that he just kissed two of his boyfriends in a public place. Maybe they should be more careful if they don’t want the entire world to know about them, but that place is always filled with people who don’t give two fucks about who their band is, so they’re sure as hell going to take advantage of it.

“Where’s Luke?” Calum asks once the three of them are seated properly. Michael lets Calum and Ashton sit side by side; it seems like they can’t stay very far away from each other tonight.

“I don’t know, I texted him and he didn’t answer so I assumed he was busy getting ready,” Michael says.

Ashton frowns. “I thought he was spending the day with you?”

“He was supposed to, but I texted him this morning when he didn’t show up at mine and he just said he wasn’t feeling like going out.”

“But going to yours isn’t going out,” Calum counters.

“I know but, you know,” Michael shrugs. “It’s Luke. Figured he just needed his space. He said he was still coming tonight, so he should be here any minute.”

“I hope so,” Calum says. “It’s our last chance to do something like this before tour starts.”

He’s right. Once tour starts they know they won’t have a lot of time to hang out all four of them on their own. Backstage they’re always surrounded by their lovely, wonderful crew who they have an amazing time with, but who they don’t feel like sharing this part of their relationship with. Not yet. And then they’ll either be in hotel rooms or on the bus, but for one, they’ll be too exhausted after the shows to do anything even remotely romantic, and secondly, there’s no way they’ll be able to sleep all in the same room. Asking for hotel rooms with two beds when they haven’t done that in years had raised enough eyebrows already, and they’ll be lucky if two of them can even fit in a bunk.

It’s not as if they usually sleep in the same bed all the time, either. They all still live in their separate houses, only sleeping over a few nights a week, sometimes all together, sometimes just in pairs if it’s more convenient or someone (probably Michael) doesn’t feel like being smothered by three pairs of arms. But it’s okay, cause they hang out together all the time, and they just enjoy having the freedom to get out of their house and knock on one of their boyfriends’ door in the middle of the night if they feel like it. This might not be an option on the road.

Michael shakes his head. They’ll have plenty of time to figure this all out as they go.

The three of them chat for a while, Calum and Ashton filling Michael in on the meeting they went to this afternoon with management (Michael is very, very glad they take it upon themselves to attend them, because these kinds of meetings are always either too stressful or too boring for him). Michael talks to them about his very boring Luke-less day spent in his too big house just playing video games while Moose kept him company.

They go on about other random topics, not really paying attention to anything that isn’t them, but when the waiter comes to ask if they’re ready to order for the third time and Luke still hasn’t shown up, they start getting worried.

“Should we call him?” Michael asks.

“I guess so,” Ashton says, but it's pointless; Michael has already taken out his phone. “Maybe something’s wrong, he never misses out on this.”

Michael’s phone rings four times before Luke picks up, answering with a small voice.

“I’m sorry,” he says as a greeting. “Please don’t worry about me, enjoy your night–”

“What’s wrong, are you okay? Should I come over?”

“No! I said don’t worry.”

“That’s not how that works!” Michael says a bit too loud. He reigns his voice back down with an apologetic look to the nearby tables. “Of course I’m worried, Luke. We’re all worried. What’s wrong?” He repeats more softly. “Are you sick? Are you having headaches again? Are you not feeling–”

“Really, Michael, it’s nothing,” Luke sighs, but the way his voice trembles betrays his words.

“Okay, I’m coming to yours.”

“Mike, no–”

“No arguing. You better not lock me out when I show up. I’ll be there soon, love you.”

He hangs up before Luke has a chance to protest again, and he hurries putting his jacket back on.

“Mike, I can go,” Ashton offers, because Ashton always offers, but Michael shakes his head no.

“It’s okay. You guys went to  _ work  _ today, so you have fun, okay? I’ll take care of him.”

“Are you sure?” Ashton asks. Michael can see that he’s relieved, though.

Michael gives him a soft smile. “I’m sure. You guys look like you could use some time to chill out, yeah?”

“You’re too good for us,” Calum whispers after Michael gives him and Ashton a peck on the cheek.

“I know,” Michael grins. “Eat some cake for me?”

“Will do,” Ashton agrees.

Michael gives them one last smile before he’s out of the restaurant and into his car.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The front door isn’t locked when Michael gets to Luke’s place, so he doesn’t wait for Luke to answer before going in.

The house is quiet and plunged in the dark despite the sun not having entirely set yet, which probably means Luke hasn’t opened the blinds all day. That’s slightly more worrying, the thought of Luke spending the day in the dark on his own, and Michael frowns before calling out Luke’s name.

“I’m in my room,” comes the muffled response from upstairs. Michael follows it.

Luke’s bedroom isn’t in a much better state than the rest of the house. There’s a faint light coming from Luke’s phone playing music softly on the nightstand, some glum and melancholic thing Michael has never heard. The sound isn’t very loud, but if the hill Michael can discern under the sheet is any indication Luke is laying right next to it, and if he’s been lying there for as long as Michael is fearing then the strings must be filling his eardrums quite loudly.

Michael doesn’t try and call Luke’s name again, figuring it might be one of  _ those  _ days, where Luke’s brain has been playing tricks on him to make him feel low and terrible about himself, drowning in resurfacing insecurities and the deprecating voices at the back of his head. This is usually what makes Luke need to listen to this terrible music and plunge himself in darkness so that he doesn’t have to acknowledge himself.

This hasn’t happened in a while. It used to happen almost on the daily, a few years ago, but with some help Luke got better, and now it happens so rarely Michael is always taken aback when it does. So are Calum and Ashton.

Without a word Michael takes off his shoes and dresses down to his shirt before sliding under the covers until he’s pressed flush against Luke’s back, arm thrown around Luke’s middle. Luke doesn’t acknowledge him, but Michael can feel some tension leave his body as it relaxes against him.

“Hey love. You wanna tell me what happened?” Michael whispers against the back of Luke’s neck.

Luke shakes his head no, hair tickling Michael’s nose.

“That’s okay. Do you want me to talk?”

“Please.”

So Michael does after making Luke turn the music off, talking softly as he draws random patterns on Luke’s stomach. He talks about the random playlists he made on his Spotify in the past week, about how excited he is to go out on the road, about the stupid memes his cousin sent him today, about how adorable and smitten Calum and Ashton had looked earlier– anything to take Luke’s mind off whatever is happening up there, because Luke’s problem when he’s like this is that he can’t stop thinking. He just needs distractions.

It seems to work some. After what could be an hour or four Luke’s body is as lax as either of them can hope for it to be tonight, and Michael lets out a relieved sigh when Luke turns around in his arms.

“Hey there,” Michael murmurs with a slight smile. Both of their eyes have adjusted to the dark by now, and Michael can make out Luke’s face enough to see a small smile mirroring his own. 

“Hey,” Luke says back.

“Are you back with me?” Luke nods. “Wanna talk about it now?”

Luke shrugs. His hands immediately fly to the hem of Michael’s shirt. “Maybe. I’m warning you, though, it’s stupid.”

“Sometimes stupid things make us unravel, it’s doesn’t make it any less valid for you to feel that way.”

“Yeah,” Luke hums. “Oh my god, I still know you’re gonna laugh.”

“You won’t know if you don’t say it. But I’m sure it can’t be that bad,” Michael reassures, though he’s curious now. “Come on, what is it?” He insists when Luke remains silent.

“Well,” Luke starts in a small voice. “Basically I got dealt with a bad hair day.”

“You what?” Michael can’t help the snort that escapes him. He can’t say this is what he expected.

Luke groans, hiding his face into Michael’s neck. “I just– I woke up and I wanted to look… I don’t know,  _ pretty  _ or whatever for you, but I swear those curls absolutely hate me. I couldn’t do anything with them and I got mad about it. Then I got frustrated with myself for being so wound up about this and then I started thinking about how I’ve been fucking up so many things lately and it spiralled from here and I just–”

“Hey, calm down,” Michael says, trying not to laugh, because he doesn’t want Luke to get back into that mindset. “Don’t panic, it’s alright. You’re alright.”

“I know, sorry,” Luke lets out through a chuckle after taking a deep breath.

“Nothing to apologize for, love.”

He brings his hand to Luke’s face, tilting it so it leaves the confines of Michael’s neck and Michael can look into Luke’s eyes. Well, as much as he can in the dark.

“All that matters is that you know you’re not a fuck-up, or whatever the mean voices have been telling you today,” Michael says sternly. “You do know that, right? We worked on that.”

“Yes. I do know that. I promise.” The glint Michael can see in Luke’s eyes makes him believe the words.

“Okay, good,” Michael says. “I wish you wouldn’t have hidden away, though.”

“I know, but I just. It started with me wanting to look good and then I just looked worse by the second, so I couldn’t make myself come to you.”

Michael hums, pecking Luke’s lips a few times, letting his fingers trace little figure eights on Luke’s cheek with his thumb. He can feel the skin has warmed up a little when he leans back.

“You always look good to me, though. Was there a reason that was important today?”

Luke doesn’t say anything, just fiddles with the hem of Michael’s shirt distractedly, and Michael frowns. “Luke? What is it?”

“Well,” Luke starts, not sounding as unsure as Michael assumed he would according to his attitude. “I wanted us to, you know. Sleep together.”

“Well, that’s what we’re about– oh, you mean,  _ sleep together _ .” Well, today is full of surprises.

“Yeah,” Luke breathes out. “We haven’t done it, just the two of us, and I know it doesn’t really matter because you’re still here when we’re all here. And, obviously our relationship doesn’t depend on this. And, it’s okay if you don’t want to but–”

“Luke,” Michael laughs. “Why wouldn’t I want to? I love you, and I love having sex with you. There’s no reason why I wouldn’t want to do it just because Cal and Ash aren’t there.”

“Yeah?” Michael can hear the relief in Luke’s voice.

“Yes. I do want to. No matter what you look like, by the way.”

Luke hums, and Michael is already trying to think of ways to tell him it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to do it  _ now  _ if he asked without making him doubt what Michael just said, but Luke just throws his arms around Michael and settles cuddled up against his side.

“Okay now?” Michael asks softly.

“Of course I’m okay. You’re here,” Luke replies, as if that should be a given. “I’m just sorry I ruined the date,” Luke goes on when Michael doesn’t reply.

Michael leaves a kiss on the top of Luke’s head. “It’s all good love. Cal and Ash will understand.”

Luke sighs. “I know they will. ‘s why I love you. All of you. Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Always.”

Michael sighs. He’s a little hungry as he didn’t get to eat, and he should probably go downstairs and have something if he doesn’t want a headache to have settled in when he wakes up in the morning. He should, but he’s tired, and Luke is already falling asleep on him, grip slackening where he’s holding Michael’s shirt, and Michael can’t bring himself to wake him from his sleep.

The soothing sensation of Luke’s chest rising against his and Luke’s steadying breath on his collarbone is all the fuel Michael needs, anyway. He’ll worry about food in the morning.

  
  
  
  
  


**CALUM**

  
  


Being on tour with his boyfriends instead of just his bandmates is interesting, Michael would say.

Okay, well. Maybe part of what’s interesting is that it doesn’t really change anything. Sure, this time around they’re sharing rooms in hotels and bunks in the bus, taking turns so that they get to share with everybody. They steal kisses, innocent or otherwise, in rare moments when they’re alone backstage. They sit a lot closer together in the back lounge in the bus when it’s time to watch a movie or just relax together.

But apart from that, nothing has changed. They still take the piss out of each other when one of them does something stupid or says something arrogant, and they still steal each other’s food and try to prank the crew and do absolutely everyhing but rehearse at soundcheck. It’s still  _ them _ , like it’s been for years, and Michael couldn’t be happier about it. The whole thing makes him feel warm and light and like he couldn’t be any more content.

Michael isn't getting any less tired, though. Quite the contrary; he's absolutely exhausted. The shows have been wearing him out so much that he’s starting to fear that he won’t be able to hold up in a few shows’ time. They’re barely halfway through the dates, and the tour isn’t the longest they’ve had, but it’s still four months long, so yeah, two months in and he’s  _ spent _ . Except he's also completely restless. He knows that only makes him more tired, but he can’t stand to do nothing no matter how tired he gets, because his mind is reeling with messy thoughts, which is why he's still on his phone at 4am even though they have to wake up early for soundcheck and they have a big show tomorrow night. Or, tonight, really.

Michael lets out a yawn, stretching as much as he can, and then something dawns on him.

He frowns at his phone, closes his game to check the time. 4am? Has he been playing stupid games for 4 hours and he didn't even notice? Why has Calum not joined him? Was Michael emitting bad vibes or something? He wouldn’t hold it against Calum if that was the case, he gets that Calum needs positive energy around him to sleep well. But the least Calum could have done is warn Michael that he was about to sleep on his own.

And, sure, he hadn’t noticed that Calum wasn’t here, but if Calum  _ had  _ been here maybe Michael wouldn’t have spent too long on his phone and he’d have slept on Calum’s chest instead. Maybe that would have calmed him down and his fingers would have held onto Calum’s instead of itching for something useless to do.

With a sigh, Michael shakes his head. It’s not Calum’s fault. Maybe they were actually supposed to sleep in  _ Calum’s _ bunk, and Michael had forgotten. Maybe Calum fell asleep before he even got the chance to come here.

Deciding he needs to get off his phone but that sleep isn’t about to come anytime soon, Michael gets out of his bunk, making sure not to hit his head on the bottom of Luke’s above his (that’s happened quite a few times, because it’s possible Clumsy is actually his middle name, and Michael swears he can still feel the ghost of the pain he’s felt each time).

He’s barely made it ten feet in the narrow hallway, ready to make some cinnamon tea, when he notices dim light coming out of Calum's not entirely closed curtain in the bunk across his.

That is both upsetting and worrying.

Upsetting, because Michael can’t believe Calum would be out here on his phone instead of in Michael’s bunk — though Michael knows that’s somewhat hypocritical of him — and worrying because, well. Wasting time doing mindless things on his phone all night long is a very Michael thing to do, but it’s never been a  _ Calum thing _ . Calum cares for his health, both mental and physical, too much to ever do that. Michael has never seen Calum up this late on tour.

Ignoring his body’s call for tea — damn, but that would be really lovely right now — he moves to the side of the bunk where he knows Calum’s head will be, and gives a slight knock so as not to startle his boyfriend too much.

“Cal?” He whispers, not wanting to wake up Luke and Ashton where they’re sleeping above Calum. “It’s Michael. Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Calum whispers back, and Michael opens the curtain.

Calum’s just lying on his back, blanket up to his chin, his face and the arm holding his phone the only parts of his body Michael can see. Michael can’t see exactly what he’s looking at, but from the colours on the screen he’d guess Calum is scrolling through Twitter. That can’t be a good thing.

It’s not too hard to convince Calum to scoot over so Michael can squeeze himself next to him and lay his head on Calum’s shoulder the way he wants to. Calum hums contentedly and wraps his free arm around Michael’s shoulder, but doesn’t acknowledge him beyond that.

“You’re comfortable,” Michael says into Calum’s neck.

“Hm. Thanks.”

“Don’t tell Luke or Ashton, but I think you’re the one I like sleeping on the most. It’s like your chest was made to act as a pillow for my head. My perfect little pillow. I love you so much. So comfy. Our boys have nothing on you.”

Calum snorts. One small victory at a time. “Are you just saying that to make me smile?”

“Ist it working?”

“Hate to admit it, but yes, kind of.”

Michael hums and brings his mouth to Calum’s neck, leaving fluttering kisses from his collarbone to his ear. He’s not trying to start anything. Calum’s not really into that kind of stuff, as he found relevant to tell them two weeks into tour and after almost  _ four months _ of dating and sleeping together — that had been an interesting conversation; Luke and Michael had just panicked and Ashton had given Calum a slap to the back of his head for letting his boyfriends have sex with him even though he didn’t enjoy it — and Michael is too tired, anyway.

This is just something they do, he and Calum. Calum had told him he found it comforting one night when they were lying in Michael’s bed back home, and Michael has been taking it upon himself to do this whenever he feels Calum is a little unhinged. He doesn’t know if Luke and Ashton do that to him when they cuddle as well, but Michael likes to think it’s a Michael-And-Calum thing.

He continues with his ministrations, hoping Calum will get the hint and drop his phone, but the bunk never turns dark and Calum remains rather tense under him.

“Babe, drop the phone,” Michael asks softly when it’s clear Calum isn’t gonna stop without a little nudge. “What are you even doing on Twitter? You hate that stuff.”

“You know,” Calum says dejectedly, and it’s a little uncomfortable when Michale feels him shrug under him. “Just watching myself fuck up.”

“Yeah, right,” Michael snorts, but Calum doesn’t laugh along with him, and Michael frowns before sitting up and looking down at Calum. “Babe?”

Calum sighs, drops his phone beside him. The light isn’t on his face anymore, but Michael can still hear the frustration in his voice when Calum says, “I just kept fucking the lyrics up tonight. I don’t think I got one entire part in a song right.”

Michael blinks. “Wait, what? Cal, lyric fuck ups are fine, we make them, it happens.”

“Yeah, but it’s not supposed to happen at every fucking show!” Calum snarls, which has Michael recoiling a little.

“Shh, you’ll wake Luke and Ash,” Michael whispers, to which he gets a soft 'We’re not even asleep but we’re  _ trying  _ to, god,' from Ashton and a muffled reply from Luke he can’t understand. Michael wants to ask what they’re even doing up, but for one, he’s one to talk, and for two, he has other things to take care of. He turns his attention back to Calum. “It really doesn’t happen that much, what are you talking about? I barely noticed tonight, I swear.”

“Yeah, well,” Calum snorts. “Apparently everyone else has noticed and they’re thinking it’s a hilarious thing to make memes about.”

“Seriously?” Michael doesn’t think he should sound that put out by that, but he does.

“Yeah,” Calum grimaces. “I don’t blame them, I really sucked tonight. Like, even Luke asked me where my head was at afterwards. But I just. I don’t know. It’s cool, I know it’s not a big deal. I’ll get over it.”

Calum shrugs, taking hold of his phone again, probably intending to go back to watching himself ‘fuck up’ as some sort of punishment. Michael takes it from him before he can fall down the meme and and critics rabbit hole, and he turns the small night light on once the phone is turned off so that he can see Calum’s face again.

His brow is furrowed in the way it is when he’s upset and he’s been thinking for too long. Michael doesn’t like that. He especially doesn’t like that Calum is upset at something so trivial at first glance. Fuck ups like that are a thing that happens, they’ve always happened because all four of them — well, three, Ashton doesn’t sing that much — have a terrible memory and it tends to get worse when they’re in the midst of doing something that takes up all of their focus or when they get distracted.

God, Michael still remembers that time years ago when Luke had come up to him on stage, and the face he’d made had been so adorable and  _ flirty  _ Michael had just stopped singing in the middle of his line, words not making their way past his lips. That had made the crowd, and then the internet laugh, and Michael had been embarrassed about it for about two hours before he’d realized that Luke had already forgotten about it.

That’s just to say that it’s strange, to see Calum so hung up over this.

With the limited space around him, Michael shuffles until he can successfully get under the covers and lay on top of Calum, legs between Calum’s much warmer ones and chin propped up on Calum’s chest.

“You know you look really weird from this angle?” Michael says, muffled.

Calum hums, hands coming up to brush Michael’s cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, then tracing Michael’s features, lips, nose, brow line, as if to commit them to memory. It makes Michael’s heart flutter in his chest. Sometimes Calum, or even Luke or Ashton, will unpromptedly do something so incredibly romantic and comfortable and Michael will be reminded that this is his. Them, this relationship, this love, it’s for him to enjoy.

Michael clears his throat, raises his hands to Calum’s wrists and strokes the skin there. “Actually, can I take that back? Even from here you look fucking breathtking. You always do.”

As Calum’s movements on his face stop, so does Calum’s breathing; Michael can feel his chest stop rising under him. Calum blinks, looks like he swallows. “I mean, I was about to say that you always look weird, but yeah, sure, I’ll take it.”

Michael pouts. “Watch me never compliment you ever again.”

“Pretty sure you’re incapable of doing that,” Calum remarks, which Michael feels kind of offended about.

“Are you saying I’m too nice?” That would be the first time Michael had ever heard that.

“Oh, no, believe me you are far from nice. Most times you’re a dick, actually–”

“Hey!  _ You’re _ a dick!”

“No I agree,” Luke interjects from above. “Michael is a dick. That’s like, his natural state.”

“The fuck did I ever do to you guys?” Michael grumbles.

“ _ –but _ ,” Calum goes on as if that didn’t just happen. He’s good at ignoring when his boyfriends are being jerks. “I love you and I love that sometimes there’s so much love in you for me that you just can’t shut up about it.”

And, well. Calum isn’t wrong. Calum isn’t wrong at all, is the thing. But Michael hadn’t had any idea that he was being so obvious about it. But he can’t really help it. It’s just. It’s a lot. Of feelings, of emotions, to hold there in his body. Especially when those feelings of sheer love and happiness are fighting with all the hopelessness and despondency that sometimes take over his brain when he has too much time to think. Which happens a bit too often for his liking. But Michael doesn’t want to think about those. He never wants to think about those, but he still needs to make room in his body so that he’s able to breathe properly, which is why he lets his mouth run and he ends up spewing love confessions every five hours.

It’s not Michael’s fault that he feels too much and that he doesn't know how to deal with it if he doesn't put some of it out into the world. He just can’t put out the bad stuff. It’s not like him to do that. There’s no point in just being a burden by being negative. He can hold that stuff in.

And apparently it makes Calum happy to hear that Michael is stupidly in love with him, so that’s a win-win, really.

Michael hums against Calum’s chest, removes Calum’s hands from his face so that he can lay with his cheek pressed against where Calum’s heart is beating. It’s possible he wasn’t saying he loved sleeping on Calum’s chest the best just for Calum’s benefit. 

“You’re right, I’ve been doing that,” he whispers, the admission rolling off his tongue more easily than he would have thought, trying to wrap his arms around Calum as much as he can. “But you’re all bullying me for no reason, so I will try my hardest to not do it anymore.” Everyone knows he doesn’t mean that.

“I’m not bullying you!” Ashton says, and his voice sounds raw. “You can tell me you love me.”

“Maybe tomorrow. You didn’t tell them they were wrong.”

“That’s cause they probably aren’t,” Ashton retorts.

“Well, I stand by my word, then. No love for you until you’re nice to me.”

Silence falls around them just then, and Michael would probably fall asleep if the light wasn’t still on, but he doesn’t feel like turning away from Calum to turn it off. He realizes he isn’t feeling as restless anymore, though; he’s happy to just rest there with the sound of Calum’s heartbeat filling his brain.

Maybe Calum is already asleep, but Michael has to check. “Are you feeling any better?” he asks softly, voice slow. Maybe he won't wait for the light to be turned off to fall asleep. 

“I actually do,” Calum whispers. He lets out a chuckle when he scratches at the back of Michael’s ears and Michael purrs at how good it feels. He doesn't stop when he goes on. “Maybe I just needed a hug and a reminder that my boyfriend loves me.”

Michael’s eyes are drooping, but he hums against Calum’s chest. “I’m glad,” he almost slurs. “I don’t want you to feel bad over stuff like this.”

“At least I’m not locking myself up because of a bad hair day,” Calum laughs, and Michael has to laugh, too.

“I heard that!” Luke whines.

“Yeah, that was the  _ point- _ ”

Ashton joins in and then all three of his boyfriends are arguing good-naturedly, and it’s sweet and familiar and soothing, somehow. Even Aston’s terrible dick jokes that he manages to slide in there are somewhat charming, no matter how much Michael hates them and would be saying so if he had any energy left in him.

As it is, the fun banter slowly fades towards the back of his mind as the tiredness of the day, if not the week, catches up to him, and finally Michael finds himself falling asleep, right here in Calum’s arms as Calum scratches at his head like he would a puppy's, his boyfriends’ voices settling around him like a warm blanket.

  
  
  
  
  


**ASHTON**

  
  


“Jesus Christ, can we get outta here already,” Luke sighs, running a hand through his hair as they get out of the room and walk through the lobby of the building. He’s probably messing it up a little, but the day is over, so Michael guesses it doesn’t matter.

Ashton is farther ahead, already outside and almost to the car, but the other three don’t rush to catch up to him. Ashton probably needs space right about now. Hell, Ashton probably needs a lot of things, but space is the thing he can get more easily, so Michael will let him have it.

Today has just been awful. They’ve been doing promo for the new single, stuck in one room on one small little couch for about nine hours. The couch was uncomfortable, way too small to host four men on it, especially for that long. Even four men who are in love and have no concept of personal space when it comes to each other.

The interviewers were coming and going one after the other, and it seems each one was worse than the previous one. Michael can’t believe they just had to go through that. He can’t believe people, real people, made out of flesh and bone and a brain and a heart just like him, would be so insensitive and rude. He can’t comprehend it.

They get outside and Michael notices the last interviewer, a woman around their age working for some random magazine, leaving the building from another entrance. He shakes his head with a humorless laugh at her. He feels angry, but mainly he feels sad that the world is filled with such terrible people. He only realizes he’s stopped walking when Calum gives him a little nudge forward to the shoulder with a slight smile. Michael smiles back, and they hop into the car where Ashton, and apparently Luke, are already sitting.

Michael settles across from Ashton, whose jaw is clenched as he determinedly looks out the window.

“Ash,” Calum starts from beside Michael. Michael shoots him a look to say no, stop, but Calum either doesn’t understand or decides to ignore him. “Ashton?”

Ashton doesn’t respond. Of course Ashton doesn’t respond, he’s boiling inside, Michael can see it. Calum doesn’t seem to pick up on it. “Ashton, sweetheart?” he goes on. “I’m so sorry you had to–”

“Cal, will you please shut up? I don’t wanna talk about it.” Ashton’s voice is clipped, like he’s this close to lashing out.

“Sorry,” Calum says, brow furrowed. “I just want–”

“Cal,” Luke jumps in, stern. “Leave it a sec, yeah?”

With one last look towards Ashton, Calum closes his mouth, slouches against his seat in defeat. Michael takes Calum’s hand in his, because he understands. Calum just wants to help.

The car starts taking them back to the hotel, so Michael looks back at Ashton and sighs.

If all the interviews were absolutely terrible, bringing up exes and random rumours and everything that could violate their privacy, that last one had taken the cake. She hadn’t started out too bad. She’d actually asked about the music, about inspiration and about the recording process, which had been a breath of fresh air. Luke and Calum had totally relaxed, obviously relieved. Ashton had pressed a bit further into Michael’s side, looser but guard still up. Michael hadn’t necessarily trusted her either, but he’d sort of zoned out like he had for the majority of the day. Not the best coping mechanism, but Michael didn’t want to be there and notice this, so he’d just pretended he wasn’t here.

But then he’d started feeling both Ashton and Calum on either side of him growing gradually more tense, so he’d had no choice but to focus back on the moment. Which he definitely would have liked not to do.

He’d had a hard time comprehending what was happening. The woman had seemed  _ nice _ , if nothing else. Why was she now asking about Luke’s sexuality and about Calum appearing to have always been single, and more importantly, why was she undermining Ashton’s choice to be sober? Michael doesn’t really remember what she was saying exactly, but it was mean-spirited and judgmental, something about missing out and being a downer, and Ashton had been so stiff next to him, hand shaking where it was clutching Michael’s thigh painfully.

It had gotten worse, until someone from their team had cut it all off, claiming it wasn’t what they were here to talk about. Ashton hadn’t wasted a second before getting up and leaving the room, Michael, Luke and Calum not too far behind him.

Michael doesn’t know what to do. None of them do. This isn’t something Ashton wants to talk about unless he’s the one to bring it up. Across from him the tension hasn’t left Ashton’s body, and Michael has a feeling it won’t leave for a while longer. At least he’s not panicking, thank god, but Michael is still worried.

He hopes the ride isn’t too long.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


While Luke is preparing tea for all of them in the kitchen in his and Michael’s room and Ashton is (hopefully) getting himself together in the bathroom, Michael cuddles up next to Calum on the couch as Calum flicks through the channels for something to watch in the background.

“Why is there never anything good to watch when we have down time?” Calum complains against Michael’s forehead.

“You just don’t like anything except soccer,” Michael says.

Calum pinches Michael’s cheek. “That is not true, mister TV-sucks-I-only-wanna-play-games.”

“Okay first, I never say that,” Michael argues half heartedly; he doesn’t have a lot of energy to do so, he would just like to keep his dignity, thank you very much. “And second, that’s so true. You never watch anything else.”

“Except for that time you didn’t want to watch anything other than  _ The Great British Bake Off _ for like three months,” Luke shouts from the kitchen.

Calum groans. “I thought we agreed not to bring that up ever again.”

Luke appears in the doorway to the kitchen then, tea ready and tray balanced on his arm. “Too late.”

Leaving the tea to cool down on the coffee table, Luke joins them on the couch, settling against Calum’s other side, fingers finding their way to Michael’s on Calum’s lap. Michael smiles into Calum’s neck when their fingers interlace, letting out a snort when Calum unsurprisingly settles on a Rugby game.

“No comment,” Caum says.

“I didn’t say anything,” Michael starts, “but I could–”

“No, I’m not okay with that. You just sleep, you look tired.”

Michael is tired, but he sure isn’t going to sleep. Not when Ashton is about to come out any second now. Michael needs to make sure he’s okay. Or better, at the very least. So he just drinks some of his too hot tea — too bad it’s not cinnamon tea, but he guesses green tea isn’t terrible — while Calum and Luke argue about the game as it plays in the background, even though Luke doesn’t know anything about it.

When Ashton comes out of the bathroom about ten minutes later, he doesn’t look better at all. He might even look worse, hair in disarray like he’s tugged on it too hard, jaw tense and fists clenched at his side as he crosses the room and heads for the door without a glance towards them.

“Ashton!” Michael calls, suddenly hyper awake. But Ashton is out the door already, and Michael is off the couch almost just as soon. Ashton may need space, but space when he can’t seem to let go of his anger isn’t something Michael is going to allow.

Luke and Calum try to stop him from following Ashton, arguing that Michael should get some sleep and that one of them can go instead, but Michael insists that he’s too worried to stay on the side for that, so they concede, letting Michael follow after their boyfriend.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Figuring Ashton must have gone to his and Calum’s room down the hall, Michael heads there right away, knocking once loud and clear before opening the door.

Sure enough, Ashton is there, and Michael’s heart squeezes at the sight of him. Ashton is sitting on the edge of the bed, hands clutching at his hair where his face is hanging between his knees, shaking so much Michael doesn’t know how he’s not exploding. Maybe that’s the issue, though. Maybe he’s letting all of it implode instead of letting it all out, not wanting the impact of the blast to reach anyone else.

Michael gets it. He gets it, because he thinks sometimes he’s just the same, despite it not being a good thing. And he may ignore that it’s not a good thing when it comes to him, but he won’t stand to do nothing about it when it comes to Ashton. He just won’t, it’s not in him to let his loved ones hurt on their own.

Making enough noise for Ashton to hear him, Michael advances further into the room and closer to his boyfriend, but far enough so that Ashton knows he can leave if he wants to. The last thing he needs to feel is trapped. Michael clears his throat. “Ash?”

Ashton’s head snaps up at his name, eyes wide and unresting as they look from Michael’s face to the carpeted floor without a break. Ashton makes a resisting sound at the back of his throat, woeful as a lost child, before tugging at his hair with renewed force.

“Ash?” Michael asks again, taking a step towards Ashton now that he has his attention. “Can you stop tugging at your hair? That’s not gonna solve anything.”

Surprisingly, Ashton blinks and the grip on his hair lessens until it completely disappears and Michael watches as he brings his hands in front of his face. He’s looking at them with the most confused look on his face, as if they aren’t a part of his body, as if he hadn’t noticed he was doing that. “Sorry,” Ashton says, voice so raw Michael would have thought he’d just been screaming for hours if he hadn’t been near him to know it isn’t the case. “I’m sorry, I don’t– sorry you have to see me like that.”

“Like what? Being upset that someone fucking disrespected you like that? Ash, it’s okay, it’s just me. Do you– do you wanna talk about it?” It’s probable Ashton won’t want to, but Michael has to ask still.

Ashton gets up, the bed creaking as the weight comes off it, and he starts pacing around the room, around Michael, fists clenching up tighter and face getting redder as he talks. “I don’t know what there is to say! I’m most likely overreacting, but I just– I already hate our privacy being invaded. But that was– you know how hard all that was for me, getting sober. I’m still– everyday I’m still teaching my fingers to reach for something that’s not a bottle when I’m unhinged. I force myself to take my phone, to hold your hand, yours, Calum’s, Luke’s. Reach for  _ something _ that will make me feel good without dulling my senses. Fucking  _ hell _ .”

Michael hums, stopping Ashton in his tracks with a hand on his elbow. He can feel just how strained Ashton’s entire body feels through this small point of contact, muscles taut as a tightrope that's been tugged on too hard, for too long, ready to snap. Michael doesn’t know what that means. He swallows, looks at Ashton. “Do you need to hold my hand, now?” he offers.

Ashton lets out a humorless laugh. “Fuck, no. Right now I want to punch a fucking wall. I want to just– to punch  _ something _ .”

“Then why don’t you?”

“I’ll hurt myself in the process, and we have a promo set tomorrow, I can’t afford to hurt my hand,” Ashton sighs, sounding dejected, like he’s given up. Like he’s ready to just spend the night angry and tense.

Michael racks through his brain, trying to think of something that will take Ashton off the edge for a little bit, will make him focus his energy elsewhere. He can’t drum; there’s no drum kit close-by, and anyway Michael would be scared Ashton would break the skins and that would only make Ashton more upset. Michael guesses they could go to the hotel's gym and workout, but he didn’t see any punching bags or anything of the sort. Michael has a feeling that wouldn’t help a lot. Ashton doesn’t like working out enough to–

Wait, that’s it. Something Ashton likes, and that will help channel his negative energy into something that can’t be anything but positive for him. Michael can’t believe he didn’t think about it on the spot.

Before he can question himself, Michael turns so that he’s facing Ashton, tilting his head up as he grabs Ashton’s hip with his other hand. Ashton’s gaze is still frantic, and his body’s still shaking hard where it’s pressing against Michael, but Michael ignores the way Ashton’s eyes widen slightly as he bridges the gap between them, slots their lips together as hard as he can.

Ashton almost stops breathing and his hands fly to Michael’s biceps instantly, as if trying to push Michael away, but then Michael holds Ashton’s jaw steady, presses his tongue against Ashton’s lips, and it’s like all the fight leaves Ashton. He doesn’t get less tense, but he still melts into Michael, opens his lips and kisses back with purpose, taking control the way Michael had hoped he would, tugging Michael closer to him. His heart rate has picked up against Michael’s chest, and Michael knows that’s it. This is what Ashton needs, and Michael can give it, and he wants to help.

“Okay, that’s- you can do that, Ash,” he whispers breathlessly against Ashton’s lips when they pull back.

“Do what?” Ashton asks, but his eyes are glinting like he understands. 

Michael licks his lips, his own heart beating faster. He looks Ashton in the eyes when he utters his next words, plastering his lower body to Ashton’s. “‘Use me. You can have me. Just do it, I know you want to.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Ashton whispers, but his body is already molding itself into Michael’s, because it knows what it needs. It knows Michael is right.

Micael shakes his head. “You won’t, you’re not violent. I don't want you to hurt me either. But you have a lot of pent up energy in you right now, and my body’s ready to receive it.” Michael doesn’t think he’s meant something more in his life, and he hopes Ashton can see the truth of the words in his eyes. He’s okay with Ashton taking him apart if he needs to, because he knows Ashton will put him back together after he’s done.

“Mike–”

“Ash,” Michael says softly, lips brushing against Ashton’s, hands roaming over Ashton’s body, hoping it will help convince him. “I want to help. I’m ready to help. Just let go, it’s alright. I trust you.”

And these are the magic words, apparently. As soon as they’re out of Michael’s mouth Ashton throws away any hesitation he had left, taking a couple steps forward until Michael’s back hits the wall with an empty noise, lips crashing against Michael’s as he holds Michael’s hands tightly in his. It’s like he’s breathing the fire that was consuming him into Michael’s mouth, and Michael takes it.

He’s ready to take all of it if that can make Ashton feel better, and that’s what he intends to do.

He lets himself melt into the back of his own head, and lets Ashton take over him.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Later, when they’ve both showered and Calum and Luke have come to kiss Michael and Ashton goodnight, deciding Michael and Ashton can sleep together tonight — after a lot of worrying and of rolling eyes — Michael cuddles up to Ashton, head resting on his shoulder, fingers playing with the hairs growing back on his chest.

Ashton lets out a chuckle, his now steady hand coming up to still Michael’s. “Stop it, you’re tickling me,” he says, trying to keep Michael’s hand from going back to his chest.

“ _ You _ were tickling me earlier,” Michael half mumbles, but he’s not sure he’s making a lot of sense. He was already on the verge of falling asleep a couple hours ago, but Ashton has drained him his remaining life force. Not in a bad way, of course, but he’s spent.

“Oh, you call that tickling? I left you fucking breathless,” Ashton teases, but he leaves a kiss at the crown of Michael’s head.

Propping himself up on his wobbling elbow, Michael looks down at his boyfriend, taking in his relaxed features. The lines on his face have smoothed out almost entirely, the storm in his eyes all but gone to leave room for the usual calm and composed hazel to look up at Michael. The red on his face not one of anger and tension, instead betraying how sated he’s feeling. How sated  _ Michael  _ made him feel.

“Yeah you did,” Michael answers Ashton. “And, I hope you never feel like that again, but if you do, you can come to me and do it again.”

There’s a glint to Ashton’s eyes then, something grateful and relieved. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Obviously Cal isn’t an option, and I’m not sure Luke would really know how to handle you like that, you know? And, honestly, I had a good time.”

“I know, you’re right. I can do that. Come to you, I mean,” Ashton concedes. He looks like he’d rather not have to, but like he’s at ease now that he knows he won’t have to keep it all in if something like that happens again. With the hand that’s not already holding Michael’s, Ashton brushes Michael’s still damp fringe away from his eye. It’s not long enough to stay behind his ear, so it springs back into his eye, but Ashton doesn’t dwell on it, just goes on to grazing Michael’s cool cheek with his knuckles. He smiles fondly at Michael. “I – thank you, for that. Are you okay, though? I noticed you were close to falling asleep earlier. I’m sorry you had to workout.”

“No, it’s fine. I wouldn't have offered if I didn’t think I could handle it. I’m tired, but it’s the good kind.” It’s true. Michael would rather be exhausted because one of his boyfriends tired him out with his body than for no apparent reason. Well, being a week after tour isn’t exactly no reason, but Michael doesn’t feel like he can use this excuse. It’s not as if he’s tired because of tour, he already was before it started. He’ll just have to accept that he’s never gonna be at one hundred percent again.

Squirming so that he can slot himself back against Ashton’s side, Michael throws his arm over Ashton’s chest so that it’s hugging him, leaving his chest hair alone.

“How come you’re always the first one who comes running when one of us needs to be taken care of?” Ashton murmurs against Michael’s head, his own arm settling around Michael’s back.

Michael hums, and maybe it’s the sleep taking root in his brain that makes him be this honest. “I guess I just have to help. I can’t stand to be on the sidelines. I’ll do anything for you to be okay.  _ Anything _ . And not just  _ you  _ you, I mean –”

“All of us, yeah, I know,” Ashton finishes his thought. “I hope you only know it’s mutual. If you need anything, we’re here for you. I just – I really hope you know that.”

Michael mumbles a non committal agreement, but he’s asleep before he can find out if Ashton believes him, or if he believes it himself.

  
  
  
  
  


**MICHAEL**

  
  


It’s days like this where Michael wishes he knew how to listen to his own mind and body. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t be crying in the studio’s bathroom because of a stupid fucking broken guitar string.

The day had started well enough. Michael had woken up with Calum’s arm draped over him and his face buried in Michael’s neck, warm despite the sheets having fallen halfway to the floor. They’d joined Ashton and Luke for breakfast at their favourite coffee shop down the road. The food had been amazing, pancakes cooked the way Michael liked it, and his tea had gone down his throat deliciously. 

In spite of the winter chill settling over L.A., the twenty minute walk to the studio had been pleasant. The area isn’t one that’s usually crowded; not empty enough to be creepy, just enough so that they can just  _ be  _ and not worry about anything, and so they were able to walk freely without any prying eyes. Luke’s hand had found its way to Michael’s, and Ashton had kissed Michael’s forehead before walking up to Calum a few feet in front of them. It’s possible Michael and Luke had spent the walk ogling their boyfriends and…  _ complimenting  _ them under their breaths.

It’s not clear when exactly it had gone south. Calum had brought back up an idea that they’d been working on a few weeks ago, some vague concept about waiting forever to take that first step because you don’t want to ruin what’s already there. It had made Michael smile where he was tuning his guitar, feet moving forward a couple inches to bump against Calum’s leg on the floor.

It was good, and  _ Michael  _ was feeling good, and then he blinked and he wasn’t. Looking around the room, he’d noticed Luke and Ashton scribbling words onto Luke’s notebook, their entire bodies pressed together unconsciously, unbeknownst to Matt who was too busy showing his own ideas to Calum, both spread out on the floor. Just like that Michael had found himself feeling alone and absolutely useless. He hadn’t even realized he’d zoned out again, and now he was shaking everywhere. Everyone was being creative and giving it their all, pouring their heart into the art and racking their brains to bring something to the table, and Michael was just sitting there on the couch, and he’d done nothing but tune his guitar for most of an hour.

“Shit,  _ fuck _ ,” He’d shouted a second after that realization. He’d turned the peg one time too many, and the sixth string had snapped right into his finger, nicking at the skin slightly.

“Mike, you good?” Ashton had asked, and Michael should have said yes and gone to change the string, because it  _ was  _ fine, it was just a broken string. But instead he’d started feeling tears filling his eyes, and he’d felt so fucking humiliated when everyone had stopped to look at him with a mix of frowns or eyes getting bigger, and he’d just had to leave.

Which is why he’s here now, hiding in the bathroom with his head between his knees and back against the wall, tears falling like a dam had broken, and now the water is pushing through and Michael’s too weak to stop it. He hates it, though. He hates crying, he hates breaking down. But, the truth is, he’s known he was holding something in. It’s been building, spreading in his veins, leaving Michael tired and unfocused and restless. It’s been festering inside him for months, and the thing is, Michael has no fucking clue what It is, because he’s never wanted to acknowledge it, but now it’s grown too big and Michael can’t ignore that it’s there. His body can’t keep it in anymore.

“Mike? Michael?” Michael ignores Luke when he enters the bathroom, ignores him still when he kneels in front of him. He can’t help but lean into Luke’s hand when it comes up to cup his wet cheek, thumb catching the tears that keep on falling. Luke gives him a torn smile. “You haven’t been feeling too good, have you?”

There’s no point in denying it now, so Michael shakes his head, tears falling anew at the admission, as if now they can come out freely, not just tearing out of Michael forcefully. It feels good, to let it out voluntarily, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, even if he can’t explain what’s wrong when Luke asks him. Luke doesn’t push though, just lifts Michael off the floor and into his arms, holding tight and with purpose. Michael has never been happier to be smaller than Luke. It feels like he can breathe, wrapped up in him like this.

Without a word Luke leads him outside the bathroom and then outside the studio and into Matt’s old car, and without any questions Michael follows him, letting out the biggest sigh and slouching into the seat once the car starts.

They don’t talk for a while. Luke hums along to some country song Michael doesn’t know. Michael doesn’t ask why they're in Matt's car, doesn't ask where they’re going, because he knows they aren’t going anywhere. It's about being here with each other. He tries to get himself together, focusing on the familiar sounds coming out of Luke’s throat and the soothing rumbling of the car underneath him. It’s never easy getting up from a breakdown when he doesn’t know what he has to fight against, but he feels that if he focuses on Luke he can at least get halfway there.

“What even is that song?” Michael asks with a slightly wobbly voice after some time and about a dozen songs have passed and the guy’s twang on the radio is starting to get on his nerves. Well, he’s not getting  _ annoyed _ , but he’s mainly confused why Luke isn’t changing the station.

Raising an eyebrow, Luke decides to humour Michael with the topic. It’s one of Michael’s favourite things about Luke; he lets Michael process things at his own pace, the good and the bad. “I have no clue, but it’s stupid and it sounds suspiciously like every other country song I’ve ever heard, so I’m gonna try my hardest to sing along.”

Michael groans. “Luke, I love you, but not even your amazing voice will make me be okay with this. You know how much I hate country music.”

“Then sing along with me! Let’s make fun of Matt’s terrible taste together,” Luke laughs. His freckles are coming out under the sun, bright smile plastered on his face, and Michael lets out a small smile at how carefree he looks. He can’t help it.

And somehow Luke manages to coax him into singing random words over the melody with a random fake southern accent, and Luke keeps sending radiant smiles his way and his hand comes to squeeze Michael’s and doesn’t let go of it until they get back home, and maybe he feels a little lighter knowing Luke’s happy and caring next to him.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“What are you doing?” Michael frowns when Luke parks in front of Ashton’s house a couple hours later. His voice is hoarse from screaming nonsense for so long, and he’s a bit boneless and tired — well, more noticeably than before — but he feels gratefully weightless.

“Don’t worry, Matt will come get his car tomorrow,” Luke says, and they go up to the front door.

“No, I mean, we aren’t going back to the studio?” Michael hasn’t done  _ anything  _ this morning, he can’t possibly go hang out at Ashton’s. He has to get back to work.

Luke just shakes his head as he opens the door, Michael following in his steps. “No way.  _ You _ , my love, need to rest. After you’ve joined Calum in the bathroom.”

Michael coxes his head to the side in confusion. “Why would I join Calum in the bathroom? And what–” He pauses and sniffs as they step further into the living room. “What’s that smell? Did someone bake something?” 

“You don’t worry about that. Come on, Calum’s waiting for you.”

With one last frown and a quick kiss from Luke, Michael perplexedly goes upstairs, where Calum is indeed waiting for him. And running a… bubble bath?

“Hey babe,” Calum says softly when he notices Michael. He pecks a confused Michael on the cheek. “Feeling a bit better?”

Michael opens his mouth to answer, but he just ends up doing his best impression of a fish. He doesn’t understand. Why are they doing this? First, Luke takes him on an unprompted two hour drive, which is one of Michael’s favourite thing to do with Luke. And now, Calum has run him a bath? Michael loves baths, but he hasn’t had the chance to have one in… he doesn’t even remember. Must be more than a year.

“Babe?” Calum calls, Michael blinks. Calum frowns. “You’ve been doing that a lot.”

“What’s that?”

“Just, zoning out. And falling asleep randomly.”

Michael doesn’t answer, put out that Calum has been noticing what he himself has been trying to ignore. It’s not how this is supposed to work.

Calum turns the faucet off, and Michael doesn’t contest when Calum asks him to take off his clothes and get into the water. He catches his reflection in the mirror as he puts his clothes on the counter, and cringes at his still red eyes and puffy face. He can’t believe he’s been looking like that and he had no idea.

Calum joins him once Michael’s neck deep in the bubbles, which Michael didn’t expect but sure isn’t going to complain about. He leans forward so that Calum’s settled against his back, legs bracketing his waist. It’s weird, having Calum there, but Michael relaxes into the touch, especially when Calum starts kneading Michael’s shoulders in a parody of a massage.

“Did you get a lot of writing done?” Michael asks.

“Not really,” Calum says like it doesn’t matter. “We left soon after you and Luke. We had to run some errands for when you came back. Or did you think Ashton just had bubble bath shit here?”

Michael just frowns. “Why are you doing this?” He wonders out loud. The hands leave his shoulders, but arms wrap around his middle the next second, and Calaum’s face appears next to him, warm cheek against Michael’s.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Calum says, as if that answered Michael’s question. “You need to relax. You haven’t been doing that one bit since the beginning of the year, and look where that’s gotten you. You’re all wound up and anxious. Let me take care of you.”

“I don’t need taking care of,” Michael scowls. “It’s just my stupid brain acting up. There’s not even– I don’t even know  _ what’s  _ wrong, okay? I shouldn’t bother you guys with this.”

“Is that why you haven’t been saying anything? Because you don’t want to  _ bother  _ us?” Michael just shrugs, and Calum sighs. “You’re not bothering us, oh my god. You’re always there when we need it, and we don’t bother you, do we?”

"Of course not!” Michael loves being there for his boyfriends.

A bit of water splashes everywhere when Calum squirms around so that he’s sitting in front of Michael, and Michael wants to laugh at the way only his head and the top of his shoulders are visible. Michael probably looks the same, though.

“I love you,” Calum says, hands back on Michael’s shoulders. “We all do. And that means we want to take care of you. That is  _ never  _ gonna bother us. You have to get that into your head. Yeah?”

“Okay, yeah.” Michael can’t possibly say no to Calum right now, not with that earnest look in his eyes and the frown on his face.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” It’s hard for Michael to apply that mentality to himself, but he wants to, so he repeats Calum’s words like a mantra in his head the entire time they stay in the bath, letting his body go lax as Calum washes him with caring hands.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Okay, now you sit here,” Calum instructs Michael to sit on the couch once they’re both in comfy clothes — Michael in one of Calum’s hoodies, per Calum’s request. Michael has decided he’ll just resign himself to being pampered for a couple hours, so he does as he’s told, taking up the spot next to Luke, who throws a blanket over their legs.

“What are we watching?” Michael asks Luke, who’s browsing Netflix. He tries to ignore the amazing smell coming from the kitchen as Calum joins Ashton there.

Luke gives him a sly smile next to him. “I thought we could watch a Disney movie.”

“Why? No, I don't want to,” Michael pouts.

“Not even if it’s Tangled?” Luke asks, and Michael smiles.

“Okay, I didn’t say anything. Let’s watch a Disney movie.” He will make an exception for that one because it’s uplifting and it’s funny, and Michael needs that right about now.

Luke starts the film as soon as he finds it, because Calum and Ashton don’t really care for it, and Michael settles against his side comfortably with a sigh. Maybe Calum’s right, he should let himself be taken care of more often.

Michael is getting invested; Rapunzel is done singing about her daily routine and dreams, and Flynn Rider is running away with the crown, when Calum and Ashton appear in front of them with a plate full of Michael’s favourite things, and the film doesn’t matter suddenly.

“Oh my god,” Michael exclaims when Calum puts a plate with a slice of carrot cake and one of brownie on it on Michael’s lap. His favourites. “Did you make that for me? And is that cinnamon tea? I haven’t had it in way too long, give me my cup. Thank you,” he tells Calum.

It’s Ashton who answers him, sitting down at Michael’s other side. “I made them, actually, Calum just helped cutting everything up. But yes, I made them for you.”

“Hey, I also made the tea!” Calum contests.

Ashton snorts. “You mean you  _ boiled water _ , very impressive.”

“Ash, it’s so good, oh my  _ god _ ,” Michael says through his first mouthful of carrot cake, ignoring them. “All I needed, nothing can get to me now. I love you.” He kisses Ashton’s cheek, dirty lips and all.

Calum fake whines against Ashton’s shoulder. “Hey, I made you a bath, you didn’t say you love me.”

“Me neither,” Luke says, turning to Michael.

“Wait a minute,” Michael laughs, the sound coming out naturally. “Is that some kind of competition to see who could make me feel better?”

“No–”

“Well I did bake your favourite cakes–”

“Driving nowhere always calms you down–”

“Excuse you guys, I cuddled him in a  _ bubble bath _ –”

“Oh my god, stop it,” Michael says, loud enough to be heard over the slowly rising voices, but he’s laughing hysterically now, burying his face in Luke’s shoulder. He tries not to spill his tea. “You're all fucking awesome, alright? Is that what you wanted me to say? No need to argue about it. Now stop talking and cuddle me, I don't want to miss too much of the film.”

“Fine, but it was my idea, I’ll have you know,” Luke mumbles, and everyone lets him have it because, well. It’s Luke.

Later, after Calum has convinced Michael they should finish their improvised lunch and they’re all huddled together under the blanket, limbs entangled and fingers intertwined as Rapunzel and Flynn are singing under the lanterns, Michael finds himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, being taken care of isn’t so bad after all.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments are always appreciated xx


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